Radio Nowhere
by JadeDjo
Summary: If all the electricity, guns, and modern conveniences where taken away how would you survive? Are the brothers strong enough to make it through the end of the world as they knew it? Post Season 6 AU. Now updated to M for violence, racial themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

This story is technically an Emberverse crossover, but you don't need to read those books to understand what is happening in this story. I'll explain enough of whats going on to understand this story. But, if you like survival fiction with a bit of fantasy rolled in I highly recommend the series starting with DIES THE FIRE.

As for the when this takes place is the Supernatural time line; it's just after the Season Six Finale "The Man Who Knew Too Much" and goes AU from there. There will be no Leviathans and Bobby is still alive!

Enjoy!

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><p>The lake was calm and the morning sun was just peeking through the trees, warming the early spring air. The mist began to rise off the lake and reflected the golden hue of the sky making the entire scene glow. Dean sat on a small abandoned dock watching this idyllic scenes.<p>

Dean was so engrossed with the peacefulness of it all, that he didn't immediately register the sound of the rustling beside him. Not until the deep male voice spoke that he realized anybody was there.

"Hello Dean."

"Son of a bitch, Cas," Dean exclaimed, one hand going to his chest as the other went for his boot knife as he whipped around. "Way to give a guy a heart attack!"

"That was not my intention," Castiel said in monotone with only hint of derision. Dean just shook his head. There was no point in arguing with the angel. Besides, he was more interested to know why Castiel was here after declaring himself God and then disappearing two weeks ago. "What do you want Cas, you're kind of cramping my style here."

"Life as you know it is about an end," he simply said.

"Ah OK. Is that a threat?'" Dean asked though Cas hadn't made it sound like one.

"It is a fact. And despite my best efforts, one I cannot stop."

"Well if you've come to ask for help you're sure taking your sweet time about it."

"There is nothing that you or anyone else can do to stop this," the angel said, almost regretfully.

"We stopped Lucifer didn't we?"

Castiel didn't acknowledge him and went on, "I don't have a lot of time. But know this, the Winchester line must survive."

"Wait, what do you mean? Where have you been? Cas-"


	2. Chapter 2

... and Dean woke with a start nearly hitting his head on the Impala's passenger side window. "tiel!" He had just enough time to look his brother in the face and see his worried expression when the pain hit. White light flashed, stronger than lightning, lances of pain into his eyes, like red-hot spikes of ice. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt in Heaven, Hell or Earth. Dean tasted acid at the back of his throat as he jerked his hands up with a strangled shout. Vision vanished in a universe of shattered light, then returned. Returned without even after images, as if something had been switched off with a click. The pain was gone too, instantly.

Only silence remained. Compete silence, not even the rumble of the Impala's engine could he heard. Wait, what?

"Dean, what the hell just happened," Sam asked as the car slowly came to a stop in the middle of the road.

"I have no idea," Dean didn't even know where to begin. "I think Cas was tiring to tell me something...,"

"Cas actually spoke to you?" Interupted Sam. "I thought you haven't talked to him since he opened Purgatory."

"Dude, I know. But he sounded like he was worried and had to make sure I got the message...,"

"Which was?" Sam interrupted again.

"'The world as you knew it is over. The Winchester line must survive'," Dean quoted.

"You Sure?"

"Positive and what is wrong with the car?"

"I don't know it just died when the pain and binding light stopped. I don't suppose Cas warned yon about that did he? "

"No," wondering why the angel had even bothered to contact him if he wasn't going to give them anything useful.

"What do you think could have happened to the car?"

"I have no idea. I'd better take a look."

"It's pretty dark out, I'll grab the flashlight."

Both brothers got out of the car, Dean headed for the hood and Sam headed for the trunk. It was pitch black out and Dean only found the hood catch pole by memory. With the hood open he waited for Sam to find the flashlight. As he waited his eyes began to adjust to the darkness. Even though it was only about 8 at night it was mid March and the sun had set an hour ago.

They had been traveling through Alabama on their way north, with the vague intention of going to South Dakota if nothing came up between here and there. They'd just come from a large underground poker game and hand won, big. It had been a 10,000 dollar buy in and with all the money they could scrounge and a front by Bobby they had both been able to enter. Sam was still not the poker player Dean was but after his win against the man-witch they'd come up with the biggest hustle to date.

They would enter the game separately and Sam would win as much as he could before carefully loosing most of it to Dean, then Dean would have to win the rest. The crazy thing was, it actually worked. There had been 10 players total at 2 separate tables. The top five would then combine into one table for winner takes all game. Dean had worried and agonized over how Sam was doing at the other table but had been proud when his brother had sat down for the final five with most of the money from his table. After that it had been a long slow process for Sam to win some and loose more and not always to Dean. But he'd done it and sometimes for Dean it was a hard press win. Sam not always letting his tells through. In the end they were sitting on a cook 100 grand. They'd left the game as they'd come and had met up in George with $50,000 left after they gave Bobby his cut. Technically the older hunter was only supposed to get a quarter of the total winnings but Dean and Sam had agreed that half was more than fair for everything Bobby did for them. Dean had sent the money by overnight express 2 nights ago so at least if there was something seriously wrong with the Impala, Bobby wouldn't have to wait for the money. He should already have it by now.

Thinking about the car brought Dean back to the here and now and the fact that it had been several minutes and Sam still hadn't brought he flashlight. "Sammy? You get lost back there or what?" Dean hollered at his brother.

"Dude their not working."

"Just change the battery,"

"You don't think I haven't tried that already? Besides, that's not all that's not working. My phone is dead and so is my watch."

"What? Come on Sam stop playing around."

"Come here and check for yourself if you don't believe me."

"Fine," Dean said as he made his way to the truck pulling out his phone at the same time. He clicked it to life expecting to use the screen light to illuminate the trunks interior, but nothing happened. He stopped next to Sam and clicked it again. Nothing. "It can't be dead already. I charged it before we left the motel and haven't used it since."

"Same here, now check your watch."

Dean moved his phone to his left hand and used his right to hit the backlight on his watch, nothing. "What the hell, this watch in nearly indestructible. No way the light has just gone out."

"The watches, phones, flashlights, even the GPS and my laptop. Nothing electronic works. I had to use my lighter to even find anything. Dean I think..."

Dean waited for Sam to finish but he never did. He could just make out Sam's features in the light of the half moon and nearly cloudless sky. Sam was looking up at the stars but Dean was sure he wasn't stargazing. It looked like he was looking for something. "Sam, what? Don't leave me hanging here. What do you think?"

"I think," Sam began, still looking at the sky. But Dean could not hear the rest as a deafening whine and torrent of air rushed past over head. An instant latter a huge explosion tossed both brothers to their knees. As Dean stood back up he could see the red-orange glow that could only come from a massive fire a mile or two away. A fire that hadn't been there just a moment before.

Sam came to stand beside him and clasped his shoulder and said in a hushed voice, "I think we were just attacked with an EMP."

Swallowing hard, Dean tried not to think about what that fire represented and tried instead to focus on what Sam had said. Turning away from the fire he said, "An EMP... Like in Ocean's 11. But that only took out a few square miles and didn't effect," he stopped and couldn't help looking back at the fires glow against the clouds. "Airplanes," he finished.

"It does if it's a nuke detonated in the lower parts of the atmosphere. One or two set off in just the right spot could take out the whole country."

Dean sagged against the car. The emotional high he'd been running just a few moments before was completely gone. If Sam was right, and Dean had no reason to doubt him, then a plane full of people had just crashed to the east of them. No doubt there were other planes falling from the sky killing thousands.

The brothers stood their leaning on the Impala trying to contemplate the huge loss of life happening, unseen, all around them, and specifically to the east as the only light for miles. As hard as the Winchester tried to same people, they knew and understood that they couldn't save everyone. But they hadn't' even seen this coming and wouldn't' even know how to stop it if they'd known.

"The end of the world as we know it," Dean whispered.

"What are we going to do?" Sam whispered back.

"Survive," replied Dean with more conviction then he felt.

Sam hmpfed beside him, "How?"

"By getting to the Midwest's farmlands as fast as possible," he said as he pushed off the car. "But first we need a fire I'm freezing." And he was. The days in Alabama were comfortable in the mid 60's, but the nights could get down into the low 40's. But it wasn't just the temperature that was chilling him. But he pushed everything else aside as he made for the edge of the road. Thankfully Sam didn't question him further and the two began to collect deadfall and dry grass for kindling.

Soon they had a small fire burning and enough wood to keep it going most of the night. They had also moved the car off to the side to act as a wind break for their fire. Sam waited until they'd both eaten a granola bar from Sam's pack and Dean was half way through a beer before saying, "We'll never make it."

"We don't have a choice. The east is too crowed. By the end of the week it will be anarchy."

"How can you know that? There's got to be enough food in the supermarket to last at least that long"

"There isn't. After Zachariah sent me into the future and I saw what the Croatoan virus did, I started looking up other apocalyptic situations and found a survival blog. It was...sobering. To say the least. One article hit a cord. It said that 2% of the US's feeds the other 98% and that as early as six months after and end of the world scenario up to 90% of the population would be dead. The article estimated a few weeks, two months at most, then everyone is out of food."

"It's almost 800 miles to Kansas from here. And that's the closest breadbasket state."

"But we may have a head start. Most people will assume this is just a blackout or if they think it's something more will still stay in their homes waiting for the government to fix it. And if that's true then we'll be no worse off than we are here. But if it's not something the government can fix. If this is lasts more than a few months then a few days head start might be the difference between living or starving to death."

"No, this can't be happening. I mean, why did we save the world only for someone to destroy it?"

"Cause no one knows the world was saved," came Dean's flippant remark.

"No this isn't real. I don't believe it." Dean was instantly on alert. Sam only talked like this, only lost his grip on reality when he was extremely stressed or upset. Sometimes even extreme exhaustion would bring on the delusions. After Cas and broken the wall in Sam's head and Sam had somehow fought his way back to conciseness Dean soon learned that Sam's awaking came with a price. In the beginning he could barley tell the difference between reality and fantasy, believing he was still in hell and Lucifer had created the real world as a dream to torture Sam into believing he was free when he wasn't. Or sometimes it was Michael, still looking like Adam, who would taunt Sam saying he shouldn't be free for the things he'd done. That he should still be in Hell were he belonged. Sam had even pulled a gun on him thinking that Dean was nothing more than a hallucination. Had even chambered a round before Dean convinced him that he was real. That Sam was real. And that he was safe.

"SAM!" Dean said loudly, putting a hand on each side of his brothers face. Physical contact seemed to anchor him in the here and now. "It's real, trust me. I don't like it either but its real. Just like I'm real. Just like your real. This isn't in your head."

It took a moment for Sam's eyes to focus back on him and when Sam's hazel finally met Deans green Dean spoke in a clam voice, "Stay with me Sammy. If the world has gone tits up then I need you by my side you got me?"

"Yeah," came Sam's horse reply. "I'm here. I got you, I got your back."

"Good," and Dean let go of Sam's face and turned back to the fire letting Sam have a moment to collect himself.

When Sam began speaking again, he acted as if nothing had happened and Dean let him. What could he do? It was either crazy Sam, comatose Sam, or dead Sam. He would take door number one, because at least crazy Sam might still be fixable. There wasn't much he could do with the two latter options.

"So Kansas. If what you say is true and all the food will be gone by the end of the month, then we can't take the most direct route. That will lead us through 3 major cities and dozens of suburbs," Sam began to reason out.

Dean nodded as he pulled out a map of the US and the bent over it. "We're here," Sam continued, pointing to the western edge of Alabama. "We were about an hour's drive from the Mississippi border just south of Tuscaloosa, AL."

"Pretty rural," observed Dean."That'll work in our favor. It will be less likely that anyone will know what's up."

"There are a few military bases on the way and they'll be quicker on the up-take," Sam warned.

"Yeah, but there in the same boat we are. If this is as widespread as we think then none of their electronics will be working either."

"They have guns. A lot of guns. And will have declared Martial Law long before we get there."

"We have guns."

"They have better guns."

"Come one Sam try to show a little optimism."

"I'm trying to be realistic. Living on false hope isn't going to get us anywhere."

"Alright fine. But let's worry about that when we come to it. First we need to get to the nearest town and get as many supplies as possible. Luckily we've got the cash for it."

"Yeah lucky. In a few days that money won't be worth the paper it's printed on."

"But until then we have the advantage over everyone else using credit. With the machines down, cash looks a lot more attractive."

"OK, supplies. Well there's a small town a few hours walk from here and in the direction we need to go. Hopefully it will be big enough to have a supermarket and hunting supply store."

"Dude, we're in rural Alabama, remember? Of course they have a hunting supply store."

They then spent a few hours going over their own supplies and deciding on what they needed to get. Without the car they could only take what they could carry. At the moment they only had their weapons cash and a few clothes to worry about. But they would need sleeping bags, canteens for water and enough food to get them to Kansas.

Sam tried to find out what Dean's plans were if they even reached the Sunflower State, but Dean kept directing them back to the topic at hand. Truthfully he didn't know what they were going to do and didn't want Sam worrying about something they couldn't control. For now it was just a goal to strive for.

They finally called it a night after they'd come up with a few lists depending on what the town offered. Putting out the fire and climbing into the Impala for a little more protection from the wind if not the cold they huddled under their emergency blankets in the back seat. His baby had warmed a little from the heat of the fire but quickly began to cool despite their combined body heat. As the temperature dropped Dean once again could see the fire still burning from the downed plane. They had sat with their backs to it most of the night, but now Dean could not help but look at the orange glow through the windshield. His last thoughts as he fell into a fitful sleep were, at least their struggle is over. The Winchesters' were just beginning.


	3. Chapter 3

When Sam opened his eyes it was still dark out, he could just make out the predawn light to the east. He had no idea what time it was, but judge from the light it couldn't be more than an hour before sunrise. So he made no move to get up. First he ran through a few breathing and light mediation techniques to clear and center his mid before even attempting to think about what needed to be done today. Because if he didn't', it would only be a matter of time before Michael or Lucifer would begin making him question himself. The world was already upside-down enough that he didn't need to add hallucinations into the mix.

When he felt he had full control of his thoughts he quietly, or as quietly as the squeaky Impala door would allow, exited the car. The air was crisp and cool but the smell of burning gas and vegetation underlay each breath he took. Thankfully the wind was still out of the west so they need not worry about the fire caused by the downed plane.

It had taken a supreme force of will not to run to the downed aircraft and see if there were any survivors. But the airplane had almost literally fallen out of the sky and had surly killed everyone onboard instantly.

It also hadn't helped that Michael, still in the guise of his little brother Adam, had appeared and said he was insensitive to the suffering of others. Saying he was no better than Lucifer, caring only for himself and his own happiness. Sam shook his head and ran through a few more breathing exercise to remove all thoughts of the angel delusions. Instead he started a fire to warm up by and wait for the down.

If he'd had a flashlight he would have started to gather and go through heir stuff. But if he had a working light then the car would be working and they wouldn't have to try and make this insane trip to Kansas on foot. He sighed as he carefully built up the flames. He still wasn't sure this whole situation wasn't some new delusion, but since Dean believed and experienced the blinding searing light then it must be real. Unless Dean wasn't really real and this all WAS an illusion.

"AHGG," Sam cried out. He either believed his brother or he didn't. Thinking in circles would get him nowhere. So he spent the next few minutes staring into the flames and trying to keep his mind clear. Letting the dance of the flames and the play of light it created to distract himself.

Eventually he heard the Impala creak and grown as Dean roused himself. But so intent was Sam on the fire that he didn't notice the eyes reflecting back at him from the other side until a loud twig snapped and broke through his fog.

There was just enough light from the predawn sky and the fire to show that it was a young black bear. How had he let the predator get so close? It seemed more curious then fearful as Sam slowly reached behind him for his gun. Only to realize he'd left it in the car when his fingers brushed only skin at the small of his back.

The animal gave the air in his direction a few sniffs as Sam called out softly, "Dean."

"Please don't tell me that I'm sleeping in the car because I dreamed that we had 50 G's in the trunk," came the sleepy reply.

"Dean," Sam said with a bit more urgency and ignoring the child like whine in his brother's voice. "I need a gun."

Dean's voice no longer had a sleepy quality to it as he asked, "Why? Sam, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking there is a bear looking at me like I might be breakfast and I'd rather not end up as bear steaks after all I've been through," Sam hissed.

"Oh," was Dean's only reply and Sam heard more creaking as Dean reached for the guns in the glove box.

The bear didn't like all the noise and began to edge around the fire. "Now would be a good time Dean," insisted Sam. Suddenly there was a gun in his lap. Quickly taking aim right between the glowing eyes, Sam fired.

CLICK.

"What the hell?! A loaded gun Dean!" he nearly bellowed as the bear continued moving and Sam jumped to his feet next to the car.

"I checked it, it's loaded," Dean said next to him as he also got out of the car. "Maybe it jammed."

"It didn't jam, it just didn't fire." While he spoke Sam ejected the misfired bullet, reloaded, and fired again.

CLICK.

And another CLICK from his right.

"Sonofabitch," Dean swore having tried his own gun.

By this time the bear started to walk away having decided that two noisy humans were more trouble than they were worth. The car door creaked as Sam followed the bear with his eyes till it disappeared into some brush.

"No way both guns had 3 duds in them," Dean said sounding perplexed as he reached for the shot gun under the front passenger's seat. He then proceeded to fire in to the brush with the shot gun with no satisfyingly loud explosion. He then tried his gun several more times, each time with a new bullet. With a hollow CLICK each time.

"Bad batch of powder?" Sam offered.

"I don't think so," Dean mumbled looking at his hand gun. It was a well oiled and cared for weapon. "This is the same clip I used before the poker match on that shapeshifter."

The two looked at each other and as one went to the truck. Dean quickly opened it and the weapons beneath and Sam grabbed the first gun on the pile. It was a sawed off shot gun that should be loaded with rock salt. Sam double check the two rounds as Dean checked over and loaded a hunting rifle. Then they both took aim at the bushes on the opposite side of the road and fired.

CLICK. CLICK.

Wordlessly they reloaded with fresh rounds an fired again, and again, and again.

Roughly 30 minutes later they both sat next to their fire, all their firearms spread out around them. They were both intent on their work as they pried loose the shells from the casings. Each time they did they would dump the gunpowder within the casing over the fire. Except instead of a bright, loud flash and bang as the powder exploded all that would happen was a reaction that looked more like a road flare then gunpowder. They tried half a dozen rounds from an assortment of calibers. All of the ammo producing the same results.

"It's just not possible," Sam finial said. "I mean, you can't change the laws of science."

Dean could only shake his head in disbelief. "Whatever Cas was trying to warn us about apparently can."

"But even if it was possible to change chemical reactions…., Why?" Sam persisted. "What does anyone or thing have to gain from it?"

"Does it even matter at this point? The only weapons we have left are the knives, machetes, and crossbows. And 20 million people between us and where we want to be."

An eerie calm descended over the Winchesters small camp. The birds still sang their morning songs. The wind still blew through the trees, rustling their leaves. But there was no comforting hum of electricity, roar of jets flying overhead, or even the quiet tapping of fingers on touch screens. The absence of man and the quiet sounds of nature seemed oddly menacing.

As they continued to sit there in silence Sam began to worry. The loss of the guns was deeply disturbing. From Dean, even more so. Where Sam could appreciate a well cared for gun, knowing that his life may well depend on how well the weapon preformed. But Dean treated the guns cache as more than just tools. He wasn't as obsessive about them as he was the Impala, but he did take pride in them.

"Dean?" ventured Sam. The only response he got was a clenching of his brothers jaw as he stood and began gathering the now useless weapons back in to the trunk.

"Dean?" he said again. "What are yo…"

"Get the lead out Sam. The sun is up and we need to get moving," was Dean's flat reply.

Seeing littler other choice, Sam began gathering the items he was taking and putting those he was leaving in the trunk with Dean's.

It didn't take long before they had everything packed. The only things that didn't go into their packs or in the trunk were those items they deemed too dangerous to leave for anyone to find. Since they had no idea when they'd be back they took all the charms, spell books, and a few hastily made hex bags and buried them in the dirt. They then pushed the Impala all the way onto the dirt shoulder over the buried items.

For a few long minutes Sam and Dean just stared at her. Sam knew it was hard for Dean to leave her behind. Even more so because he had just rebuilt her. Again. But he was unprepared for how he himself felt about having to leave such an extension of himself behind. It was the only true home they'd ever known and they were leaving it behind for the unknown. The open road seemed a whole lot scarier without the comforting presence of the Impala's steel, chrome, and leather.

Eventually Dean moved to the hood, put his hand on it for a moment and then headed down the road towards town. This was his unspoken queue for Sam to follow. He did, but not before giving the faithful car a pat on the roof. He quickly jogged to catch up with his brother.

* * *

><p>The sun was half way to its zenith when the brothers reached the out skirts of a town called Eutaw with a population just under 3,000. Sam figured it had been about 3 hours of steady walking before they detoured around the small town to hide most of their gear on the opposite side of town. They had agreed the night before that they couldn't walk through town obviously loaded for a long journey and heavily armed. Two guys walking through a tight nit community with crossbows, machetes and knives would have Barney Fife on them faster than vamps at a goth party.<p>

After hiding the gear under some deadfall and brush they doubled back with only a small pack each filled with the poker winnings. Now they were just two normal travelers stranded on the road when the power went out.

Evidently they weren't the first people stranded on the road to come into town. They'd seen a few abandoned cars on the walk in and the few locals they saw out and about only gave them a cursory glance. It was when the reached the main street of town that they saw were most of the residents had congregated. Not wanting to waste any time, Sam and Dean quickly split up to purchase as many items on their lists. Dean was in charge of camping and miscellaneous survival gear while Sam would handle food, water, and medical supplies. Water being the biggest problem as it was so heavy to carry.

Agreeing to meet up again in 2 hours Sam took his list to the nearest grocery store. He could just make out a Piggly Wiggly on the other side of the crowds outside the Town Hall. As he made his way through the crowd he could hear snatches of conversations.

"Not even the generator will start…"

"Saw if fall right out of the sky…"

" …was trying to call my dad in Tuscaloosa, but the land lines are down…,"

"…felt worse than a migraine and then it was gone…"

"The Mayor should be making a speech any minute…"

Everyone else had felt the pain when the event, phenomenon, change, he didn't even know what to call it, happened.

"At least when I wanted to make the world a better place, I didn't break it," said Lucifer in a sardonic voice right next to Sam's ear. He couldn't help it, he flinched, but tried to show no other reaction to the fact that he had the Devil talking to him. Sam continued to make his way through the crowd.

"You shouldn't have stopped me Sam," Lucifer continued. "Just think, if you had worked with me instead of against me we could have created a paradise of our choosing."

This wasn't real. He isn't real. Sam kept repeating in his mind, trying to block out the fallen angels words.

"I know what you're thinking Sam. You forget that I know everything about you and I know that you agree with me."

Sam couldn't continue with Lucifer putting doubts into his mind. He quickly hid down an ally and tried to control his breathing which and become quick and breathless. As he slowed his breathing he also emptied his mind, concentrating solely on talking slow measured breaths.

"You can't get rid of me forever Sam," Lucifer said, as if from a great distance. "I'm always with you."

It took a few minutes of concentrating on only his breathing, but soon Sam felt he was regaining control of his mind. He sent another minute just to be sure before resuming his way to the grocery store.

Two weeks. It had only been two weeks since Castiel had broken the wall in his mind, blocking out all trauma he's suffered in Hell and all the things his soulless self had done. Most day's he didn't know what was real and what was memory, or an illusion of his mind. If it wasn't for Dean's constant reminders of where and who he was, Sam had no doubt that he'd either slip into another coma or a raving lunatic, a danger to himself and others. It was only the seriousness of their situation, he knew, that had Dean agreeing to split up and let his beautiful mind brother out of his sight.

Trying his best not to let the faith Dean had in him go to waste, Sam entered the Piggly Wiggly. As he looked around, he noticed that it didn't look to picked through yet. Not at all like the images you'd see on the news of ransacked shelves and fighting customers after a natural disaster. Though, he'd hate to see what the place would look like in a few days.

There were a few employees and customers about, but nobody seemed panicked and there were hand written signs at the registers that said CASH ONLY. Thankful for the poker winnings in his bag, Sam grabbed a basket and started shopping.

* * *

><p>Dean continued to watch Sam make his way through the mass of people until even with Sam's height he could no longer track his brother. By than the crowd around the Town Hall had grown and now at least half the town was present. Everyone had already figured out this was no normal power outage and wanted their elected official to tell them what to do and that everything would be alright. Shaking his head as he made his way through the throng, Dean couldn't help but be amazed at peoples persistently to ignore the truth staring them in the face.<p>

He had only made it half way to the edge of the crowd when shots of "Quite" chorused around the street. Everyone quickly quieted down as a thin woman in her late 50's stood at the top of the steps leading to the Town Hall. Now that everyone's attention was focused on her, Dean slowed his movements, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself.

There were a few shops he could see from his current vantage point that might have what the brothers needed, a thrift store and a bait and tackle shop. But they looked locked and the overflow of people would definitely see him if he went through the front door and might even see him inside if he went through the back. So he gave, who he assumed was the mayor, half an ear as he inched his way to the alley leading behind the block he wanted.

"Thank you everyone," she shouted trying to be heard by everyone. Dean could only just make out her words. "I know you all have come looking for answers and I'll try my best. But at this point in time we don't know much."

This was not what the residents of Eutaw wanted to hear and began to murmur to their neighbors.

"Please, everyone settle down. Please, just let me finish," she shouted and the crowd quieted, if not completely settled.

"At this point the only things we know for sure are that at exactly 8:15 pm Central Standard Time something, we don't know what, disrupted all things needing electricity within a 10 mile radius, possible more. This includes all cellular service, land lines, batteries, vehicles, and our backup generators. Basically anything that can hold a charge or conduct electricity."

The murmurs that had been increasing as the mayor spoke now drowned her out. Most people already had figured all that out for themselves. They wanted answers as to what the government; be it local, state, or federal, planned to do about it. They started to surge forward, trying to get closer to those in charge as if proximity would equate to reassurances.

As the crowd became even more tightly packed trying to get closer to the mayor, Dean saw his chance to slip down the alley and make for the back door of the fishing store. He just hoped the crowd kept its head and didn't become a mob. He would like the secret that gunpowder no longer worked, to keep little longer. Because if it didn't that would cause everyone to panic and the crowd would longer be just that, or even a mob, it would become a full fledge riot.

Once Dean reached the edges, he quickly disappeared down the alley and nearly ran to the back door of the bait and tackle shop. Within seconds of removing his lock pick from his inner jacket pocket, he was in.

The place was dark with only minimal light coming from the front window. He could see the shadowed out lines of fishing rods and racks of waders and life jackets. He soon found shelves of products that faced away from the window. He pulled his lighter out and started looking.

In near darkness, Dean figured it took him about an hour in the surprisingly well stocked fishing store. It had been larger then it first appeared and had some hunting and camping supplies as well. He had found water purification tablets, small nesting camp pots and pans, freeze dried camp food, a few other misc items, and best of all - some hard framed hiking backpacks. Unfortunately there were no compact sleeping bags or a small 1 or 2 man collapsible tents. But there had been some nature themed camo clothes that could be made into a crude shelter. The thrift store took less time, but he had managed to find some woolen blankets. It would have to do. He needed to meet Sam.

Making sure as he left each store to leave enough money and extra to cover what he had taken, he made his way down the alley and back to the street. Not that the paper money meant much anymore but it would make Sam feel better and anything to keep his schizophrenic baby brother on an even keel, he would gladly do.

It just wasn't right. They had won a 100 grand, and even 50 belonged to Bobby that still left the Winchesters richer then they'd ever been in their lives. Now all of it was worthless, or soon would be once people figured out you couldn't eat money. There only other form of currency was all the silver they could find in the car. Which, once the two had pilled it up, was not insignificant. With so many beasties with silver aversions they'd managed to come up with three blades, two dozen bullets (minus casings), half dozen or so charms, and one charmed bowl. It wasn't a fortune but it was better than nothing and it was all solid silver.

In the hour he had spent shopping most of the town and decided that mobbing town hall wouldn't do any good and most and dispersed. There were still more than usual milling about as Dean made his way to the meeting point with Sam. A well established BBQ joint on the north side of town called Clark's Traditional Southern BBQ. It also smelled open for business as the wind brought the smell of wood smoke and roasting meat to his nose. Dean's mouth instantly began to water. They'd had some fast food last night and hour or so before the… event? incident? change? happened and only a half a granola bar Sam shared with him. Just as he was about to go inside he saw Sam with 2 large and very full, trash bags.

**Author's Note**

Just wanted to say thanks to Souless666 for the great idea of the Winchester burying their more volatile items just in case anyone were to brake into the Impala. So a shot out to my new beta reader TimeLord98! Thanks!

One more thing. I'm going to try and get ahead of this story so there might not be an update next week. But if I can get ahead in chapters then I can do weekly updates. Here's hoping!


	4. Chapter 4

As Sam came to stand beside him Dean asked, "Have any trouble?" He was only half asking about Sam's success in finding provisions.

"No, no trouble," was Sam's easy reply. So much had happened to them the last few years that Dean wasn't a hundred percent sure if Sam was lying or not. But his brother looked ok and had obviously bought a lot so he would trust his word, for now.

"Well, come dude, I'm starved and I think this may be the last time we have food that smells this good," Dean pointed out while opening the door for Sam, who had his hands full.

"Won't argue with you there," and Sam's stomach rumbled loudly.

Dean laughed. "I don't think I've heard your stomach growl that loudly since your growth spurt at 17."

"It took a lot of energy to be tall then you," Sam jibed over his shoulder.

The delicious smells were ten times more powerful inside then out and Dean was sure Sam could hear his stomach rumbling as well.

The inside of Clark's had well worn wood plank floors with a white wash finish and simple natural stained wood tables and chairs done in the craftsman style. The walls were wood paneling that matched the tables and with a few pictures of rural life. Dean guessed that most if not all were taken from around Eutaw. There were a number of people already eating, filling the tables and a line of customers 10 deep waiting to order. The brothers dutifully got in line and surveyed the menu above the checkout counter just as a boy of about 18 or 19 came towards them. He was average height at about 5'10" with warm brown skin, a wide smile and slanted eyes making Dean think he was a Pacific Islander rather than African American.

"Hi, welcome to Clark's. You fellas know what you want?" the teen asked, pen poised over a notepad.

"Yeah," Sam said first. "I'll have the sampler platter with beans, slaw, and potato salad."

Dean raised his eyebrows, surprised. That was a lot of food, or more specifically, a lot of meat for his salad loving brother. But he didn't comment as the kid looked toward him with an expectant look.

"Make that 2," Dean said and the boy nodded.

"And I hate to ask but, with the credit machines down, you've got cash right?" The boy asked, embarrassed.

"We're covered kid," Dean assured him and the teen smiled at him relieved.

"Great, well as you can see we're pretty busy, but I'll put your order in and hopefully it'll be ready by the time you get up to pay," and the kid turned to the next set of people who'd come in behind the Winchesters.

The bothers were only in line for about 10 minutes and had only moved up 2 spaces when loud voices started up from the direction of the register. There a thin man with unkempt clothes and a greasy truckers cap was leaning over the register pointing a finger in the face of a small, slim Asian woman working it.

"Look Cecily, I'm good for it," the hick growled.

"I'm sorry Randy but those are the rules," the woman said in a no nonsense voice. "We don't take checks and with the machines down it's cash only."

"Listen here ya little chink, no'un else has got power and since everything here is done with wood, you're the only place that's open. I ain't got nothing back home and I just want a god damn piece a chicken!"

Sam had already dropped his bags and started moving toward the front before Dean even realized what he was doing. He followed suit, backing his brother's play. He really didn't think they should get involved. And though the hillbilly was in her face and had thrown out the racial slur, she hadn't backed down and looked like she could handle it.

"Hey man," Sam said casually, coming up on the man's left while Dean silently took position on his right. "The lady's just trying to do her job."

"This ain't none of your business, pal," Randy said, swinging around to face Sam. Even though Dean was now at his back he could tell the hick hadn't expected the giant that was his brother. He took a step back and bumped into Dean. Spinning, Randy the redneck realized he was surrounded.

"We're making it our business," Dean said with a glare.

"Look, just apologize to the lady and we'll pay for your meal," Sam said in a placating voice.

"I don't need no charity," Randy spat then turned to the Asian woman. "You tell that husband of yours' this aint over. He thinks he's such a big man with his fancy new truck and all. That nigger's time is comin." Then he intentionally bumped his shoulder into Sam, hard, and stomped out.

"That was kind of you, but not necessary," the woman said. Cecily, Dean thought he heard her name was. "But Randy Crowe it just a loud hot head that probably had too many beers last night, drinking them before they got warm."

"That's no reason for him to a racist ass," Dean mumbled, not meaning to be over heard but was.

Cecily chuckled, "But he IS a racist ass."

"What about the threat he made," Sam asked.

"He'll probably go drink a few more beers back at his trailer and forget about it," she assured them.

They had no other argument and she seemed to know Randy Crowe well enough that they could only take her word for it. They nodded to her and made their way back in line receiving a few nods of support from an elderly couple and a man and woman who looked like they were travelers like Sam and Dean, as their sharp business suits looked much too expensive for a small rural town.

It was well past noon by the time the Winchesters reached the front of the line. Most of the customers at the tables had left and most of those before them in line had gotten their food to go. When they stepped up to the counter Cecily smiled and called out to the back, "Jim, it's them!"

She took the slip with their order and totaled it. As they handed over their money a large African American man came through the door that led to the back and the smokers. Dean could only assume this was Cecily's husband. He wasn't as tall as Dean, but he had a solidness to him that was in complete contrast to his short and slim wife. Then it dawned on Dean that the teen who was currently busing tables was not a Pacific Islander but their son.

"Jim Clark," the man said in a low rumble. His southern accent subtle. He extended his hand. "Just wanted to come out and meet the two gentlemen who would defend a lady's honor."

Dean heard a scoff and saw an eye roll from Jim's wife as first Sam then Dean shook his hand. She clearly didn't feel like she needed her honor defended.

"It was nothing," Sam said, speaking for them both. "We can't abide racism and stand around and do nothing."

Jim nodded and thanked them again and Cecily nodded and smiled as she handed over their food. They nodded back and sat down to eat.

The food was good and they made it through half of their meal before Sam closed his Styrofoam box on all of his baby back and spare ribs, half a chicken, and sausage. He'd eaten all of his potato salad, coleslaw, beans, pulled pork, brisket, and corn bread. Dean had done the same only he hadn't been able to resist the baby back ribs. They had mutually decided to save what could be saved over night without refrigeration, for tomorrow.

The place was still doing brisk business when the brothers left to make their way back to their hidden gear. The town was also still busy as people tried to go about their normal daily business with no electricity or cars. Dean had to shake his head and marvel at the blinders the average person could put up in order for them to feel safe. Even when disaster stood staring them in the face. He said as much to Sam as they left Eutaw behind and turned down a quiet country road.

"That's because most people don't want to do for themselves," Sam responded. "They want someone else to come and save them. Whether that's the government or their neighbor or anyone else so they don't have to take responsibility. Our society has become so interdependent and so global that even if there is a disaster somewhere and services are disrupted, other than paying a few more pennies at the supermarket or the gas pump, the shelves are still stocked with food and the gas still flows. The lights still turn on and the toilets still flush."

"And now all that has been taken away," Dean said into the silence after Sam finished. "Now over 300 million people have no one but themselves to rely on."

There wasn't much left to say after that so the Winchester walked in silence until they reached the wooded area they'd left their gear in. Relieved to see that they had hid it well and it had remained untouched.

It was late afternoon nearly evening by the time they organized everything and split it evenly between them. With the purchase of the hard frame hiking packs, they were able to fit all of the things they'd brought from the car and the new items Dean had purchased inside, with the exception of their bedrolls and new heavy wool blankets, which they tied to the bottom of the packs. They also kept their weapons out and within easy access. They would have to carry the crossbows and the machetes could be attached to their belts while knives could be secreted away in pockets. That just left the food.

Sam had bought only nonperishable's consisting of those that were in packets, not cans, needing only water. Such as Raman, instant soups and pastas. There were also what had to be every granola bar, energy bar, and breakfast bar in the store. All of which had already been removed from there container boxes and were left free floating, individually wrapped.

There were also nuts of every variety. Much to Dean disappointment, all unsalted and unflavored. He understood that the salted and flavored kind would dehydrate them too much, and the nuts themselves would be more nutritious then some of the sugary bars, but honey roasted almonds were his favorite. These were removed from there cans and jars and put in to re-sealable bags.

As they silently worked and sorted trying to figure some easy way to carry it all, Dean's eye alighted on a canister half covered by dried fruit. After removing the packages, Dean reverently lifted up the large canister. It was one of the largest and bulkiest things Sam had bought, but Dean didn't care. He would guard this with his life.

It was a large canister of instant coffee. Totally not healthy or required for survival, but it didn't matter. Coffee was coffee and if this _change_ really was more than just an EMP, coffee would become a very rare thing indeed.

"Would you like to be alone?" Sam smirked from the other side of the pile.

"You'd better be nice to me," retorted Dean. "And I may let you have some."

"You go right ahead and keep it." Sam said as he reached behind him. "Because I've got my own," and held up his another canister.

"Always thinking ahead Sammy," he said as he put his coffee down next to his pack. He would tear the whole thing apart in an effort to make it fit. Then he remembered the gallon sized re-sealable bags. Perfect.

By the time twilight descended and the darkness made it hard to see, they were finished. Everything that could be stuffed into the hiking packs was or was somehow tied on. However most of the food would have to be carried by hand and had been packed as tightly as possible into their now empty duffels. Water was just too heavy to carry, but with the iodine and water purification tablets and some heavy duty filtration water bottles Dean had found, they would just try to be as careful as possible to cleanse any water they found before drinking it.

The only thing left that they needed to do was medical supplies. It had been agreed on the walk from the car into town, that they would pay a night time visit to the drug store to see what kind of medicine they could find that was heavier duty then over the counter pain pills, which Sam had already bought and a few other things to fill out there existing medical kit.

But they would need to wait till after midnight, when the town would be at its quietest before trying to brake in. As this was still many hours away, both brothers fell in to a brooding silence.

A while later, as Dean was trying to doze with his back against a tree and he is chin against his chest, when he heard Sam clear his throat.

Sam was also using the same tree trunk as a back braise. The small cough was Sam way of seeing if he was awake.

"What Sam?" he asked, not lifting his head.

"Ah, do you think…, I mean…, are you sure this is the right thing to do?" Was Sam's tentative reply.

Dean thought he knew what his sibling was referring too but decided to play dumb. He wasn't sure Sam would like his answer. Still not lifting his head he said, "You've never had any problem stealing meds before."

"No, I know, and I know we need them. I'm fine with that," Sam slightly stuttered out. "It's just, this whole thing man. I mean, we're walking. To Kansas. Or Oklahoma, or Nebraska. Hell why not just all the way to South Dakota and Bobby!"

He heard an edge of desperation in Sam's voice, but what could he really say? Did he want to go all the way to South Dakota and Bobby? Hell yes. Did he think they would make it? Hell no. He wasn't even sure they would make it to Kansas. He wasn't even sure they would make it out of Mississippi, the next state over. But the desperation he heard creeping into Sam's voice kept him from voicing his doubts. He just wasn't sure what would trigger one of Sam's delusional episodes, but he didn't think adding more stress to his shoulders would help.

So he said instead, "Yeah we'll make it. We have a head start on what's going on and as you said earlier, most people will have their heads buried so far up their asses that it will be too late before they do something."

The other side of the tree was quite for a beat then Sam asked, "And if we make it to Kansas, then what?"

"Find some farm that needs help?" Dean threw out.

"Are you asking me or telling me," Sam snapped.

"Both?"

"You do realize," Sam stated. "That most farms now a days are run by multimillion dollar corporations and grow only one thing. Hundreds of acres can be dedicated to just corn, wheat, or oats. Not exactly a well balanced diet."

"Well if you have any better suggestions I'm all ears," Dean snapped back at him. He didn't need reminding. They'd driven through the prairie states enough to know the full meaning of _Endless Waves of Grain_.

Silence again. Now Dean was awake and annoyed. He realized his brother wasn't running on all cylinders but did he expect Dean to think of everything? He honestly didn't know what he was doing half the time and now was so far out of his depth all he could do was solve one problem at a time.

"Dean?" Sam queried.

"What Sam," he said as an exhale.

"Do you, do you remember that spirit a couple of years ago? Some 19th century horse drawn soil plow. The original owner had been trampled by his team and attached himself to the plow. And the new owners already had one person in the hospital from being trampled and another who had a broken leg?"

At first Dean didn't know which hunt Sam had been referring too. There were actually quite a few angry farmers out there that had kicked the bucket while working the farm. Nonetheless, this one was memorable because it had happened on some prairie frontier reenactment farm.

"Right, I remember. The owner had a fit when we had to burn the plow and I think he was more mad about that then relieved we'd solved his ghost problem."

"Right that's the one. He was mad because it was a fully working farm that showed what life was like in the late 1800's and we'd just burned up his new, fully functioning farm equipment from that period."

"Whatever, he could have shown a little more gratitude," Dean mumbled. Then louder, "So why bring it up?"

"Because, it was a real farm, Dean. Not just for show for tourist. They were a working organic farm that sold at the local farmers markets and some of the local town restaurants. Also the guys wife was so relieved that she said to drop by if we were ever that way again."

"So you're gonna take her off handed comment as an open invitation?"

"You asked me for a better idea," Sam chided.

That he did, and it wasn't half bad. At least it was a destination. If he remembered correctly it was somewhere in the northern middle of Kansas.

"Well, alright. Guess we'll head there," Dean stated as he looked up to check the position of the moon. He figured it was around 9 pm. "We've got a couple more hours before we can go get the meds. So I suggest we get some more rest while we can."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>

My beta is MIA this week so, sorry if there were any glaring mistakes. I try to proof read it even before going to beta but I'm not the best when it comes to finding grammar mistakes.

Just wanted to thank my 6 followers and one reviewer! You guys rock! And anyone else who stops by, thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

The moon was already beginning its decent back toward the horizon when the Winchesters made their way back to town. The tall oak, maple, and cottonwoods shrouded their way but the silvery light providing enough illumination to see except in the deepest shadows. They had opted to take everything with them rather than try and find it again in the dark. Then they could just leave and try and make as much progress before morning.

Everything was quiet as they made for the back door of one of the two different pharmacies that the town had. After a few turns of Sam's lock pick and they were in. They dared not light a lamp, but as the back of the pharmacy had no windows they used small candles Sam had purchased. The only ones left had been with the Mexican ingredients. He tried not to think of the hypocrisy of using candles with the Virgin Mary on them while stealing. So he turned the image around and used his hand to block most of the light till he found the shelf he was looking for. Sam was tasked with antibiotics while Dean was getting the good pain killers. They were limited to pills only as they would have no way to keep liquid cold and didn't want to have to deal with sterile needles anyway.

They didn't take everything on the shelves and soon met back up by the back door, preparing to visit the town drug store. As they left and made their way to the road Dean suddenly stood still and signaled to Sam to find cover. He quickly ducked behind a dumpster while Dean used some boxes and pallets stacked next to it. As soon as they finished hiding Sam could hear voices approaching and using the shadow of the dumpster as cover he peeked around the side. Walking down the middle of the road were a half dozen figures. With the moons help Sam could see that they were all male of various sizes and it looked like some of them carried poles or bats and what looked like hunting rifles and possibly a shot gun.

The brothers watched as the group made their way to Clark's BBQ joint. With shouts of encouragement they forced the door open and soon loud crashes, bangs, and glass braking could be heard within. Sam and Dean had gotten closer as the gang broken in and now were huddled in an alley across the street, making sure to stay in the shadows.

"Dean," Sam hissed. "That has got to be Redneck Randy and his friends."

"That's what I figured," Dean said quietly back.

"We've got to do something," Sam insisted. "Warn the Clarks."

"How, we don't know where they live."

"We could at least stop them from completely destroying their place."

Suddenly a chair crashed through the front window and the hicks came pouring out whooping and hollering their drunken glee at the destruction they'd just rot.

"Looks like it's a little late for that," Dean countered.

A voice from the group suddenly shouted above the rest, "Now ta go teach those coloreds a lesson!" It sounded just like an even drunker Randy. The rest of the group shouted its agreement and they all moved on down the road.

"Dean!" Sam said urgently. They had to help now.

"I know, I know," agreed Dean. "Just keep them in sight and stay to the shadows as much as possible."

Sam didn't need telling twice and quietly slipped from the alley, Dean right behind him. Their gear made it difficult to stay absolutely silent. But the hicks were not making the same effort and hid the noise of their pursuers.

They quickly left the town behind heading north east and after a few minutes walking a long a sparsely populated road, turned down a dirt road running straight through some trees and brush. A white mailbox at the entrance read _Clark_. The brothers tried to stay as far back as possible and still keep the group in eye sight. Shortly the road ended at a small one story house made of a light colored brick. The front door was dead center with windows on either side and a detached garage off to one side.

The group stopped a few feet from the front door and Sam and Dean found cover behind some thick oak trees. Dropping their gear quietly, they began to creep closer, always keeping to the deepest shadows.

"Hey Clark!" Randy shouted at the darkened house. "Come on out so we can have some fun with that little wife of yours!"

"Yeah Jim," A new, equally drunk voice shouted. "Come on out so we can have some fun!"

A chorus of "Yeah, come out," and cat calls sounded as the front door opened a crack and the glint of a rifle barrel poked through. Jim Clark's sounded from within deep and loud. "You fellas just go on home, ya hear? You've had your fun."

"Oh but we've only just started," Randy sneered and a few of his cronies snickered. "Paid a little visit to your place in town. Not much to look at now." And his friends all laughed uproariously, as if this was the funniest joke in the world.

Stupid racist rednecks Sam thought and continued to creep on the band from behind. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Dean was almost in position to his right. Eight on two weren't great odds, but they had the element of surprise. It also helped that this group was drunk.

"I'm not gonna tell ya again Randy. Get off my property or face the consequences!" Clark warned.

"I got seven guys here who says different," Randy insinuated. "Go bring em out boys."

It was now or never Sam thought as a cold detachment settled over him. With ice in his veins he hit one of the men holding a bat over the head with rock. As soon as the man dropped he heard another thud to his right. Six on two. The man next to the one he'd just felled started to turn as Sam swept his legs out from under him. Normally Sam might have worried as the man brought a 9mm to bare but the round clicked harmlessly in the chamber and Sam kicked it out of his hand. The drunk was so shocked he didn't see the kick aimed at his head until it was too late. Sam saw him slump and spun to find his next target. Dean had three on him and a fourth was high telling it down the dirt road with Jim Clark hot on his heels brandishing his rife like a club. He didn't know when Clark had left his house but, evidently he'd figured out his gun was useless otherwise. He didn't see the last man anywhere.

Sam quickly moved to help Dean, who'd lost his machete and was using a knife to keep the two on him, who had bats, at bay while the third tried to out flank him, circling in behind. Pulling his own machete, Sam advanced on the man who was about to hit his brother from behind. The thug saw him coming and turned to face the new threat. The guy quickly lifted up a pistol. Sam couldn't hear the clicking of the hammer but guy wasn't very bright as he kept trying to shoot a gun that wouldn't fire. As Sam came closer the man finally figured out the gun was useless and tossed it a side and quickly grabbed a branch near his feet. If he though that the piece of wood would protect him some how he was sorely mistaken. It couldn't have been more then an inch thick and swift back handed swing of Sam razor sharp machete cleaved it in two. A punch to the face and another with the hilt of the his weapon and the guy was out. Now to help Dean.

His brother must have sensed him approaching because he quickly maneuvered the two so there backs were to Sam. Putting on a burst of speed Sam tackled one to the ground and punched him several times in the nose before the man could bring his bat to bare. This distracted his accomplice enough for Dean to block the bat and wrestle the last guy into a choke hold, slowly cutting off his air supply till he passed out.

Sam quickly moved to double check the bodies to make sure they were down for the count. One nice thing about drunks, Sam thought as he surveyed the Clarks front yard, they were easy to knock out. Suddenly Randy emerged from the front of the house holding Cecily around the stomach, a knife at her throat.

"Don't know who ya guys are but back off now or Wang Chung gets a new smile!" cried out Randy.

"Look pal," Dean placated raising his hands. "No one else needs to get hurt tonight, huh? So just let the lady go."

"It's you!" Span Randy. "From earlier today. You just don't know how to mind your own business."

"Randy, whatever it is you want, there's no reason to hurt my wife," Jim pleaded, evidently having chased the guy far enough and come back.

"Want I want is for the nigger who put my place outta business to pay!" Randy was becoming more and more irrational.

"Your pork tasted like wood chips, and you're gonna blame Jim for that? Hurt my family cause you can't cook BBQ?!" Cecily asked incredulous.

Sam listened to the conversation with half an ear as he slowly removed a small pocket knife from his jeans. Dean was still holding position on his right and slightly off center from the door. Clark was directly in front of the door and Randy, both holding the deranged man's attention. A kind of detachment came over Sam as he slipped into the shadow created by the leaves of a massive cottonwood.

"Shut up bitch!" Jim yelled and slashed her left cheek with the knife. She bent in half, as much as Randy's arm around her middle would allow.

Sam acted. Without thought and without conscience. Before anyone could blink Randy dropped his knife and his arm around Cecily slackened. She quickly broke free and ran to her husband. Dean quickly ran up to Randy as his legs gave way and he slumped to his knees, head turning down to look at his chest. Directly were his heart should be, Sam's knife protruded, creating a slowly darkening patch around it. Without another sound he fell forward and lay still.

Dean turned the body over and double checked for a pulse. Sam knew he wouldn't find one. His throw and been straight and true. Sam walked confidently up and pulled the knife from Randy's chest and whipped the blade on a clean part of the dead man's shirt.

"Sam! What the hell were you thinking?! He had a hostage!" Dean snarled, though his tone was low enough for only Sam to hear.

As Dean spoke, it was like a switch clicked in his brain and the cold, dispassionate attitude he'd had at killing Randy vanished. "Dean I..., I don't know what…," he stammered to his brother.

"Not now," Dean commanded and jerked his head in the direction of Jim Clark.

Sam had no idea where Cecily went as Jim approached them and looked down at the body. As he looked his mouth twisted and then he glanced out over the moon lit lawn. A few groans could be heard as a few of the men started to regain consciousness.

"Mr. Clark," Sam started to say before Dean grabbed his arm tightly and he fell silent.

Jim looked between the two of them and the yard before saying, "I don't know what you two are doing out in the middle o'the night, but I'm much obliged you were."

"Mr. Clark," Dean said in a no-nonsense voice. "I'm assuming you didn't catch the guy who got away."

"Actually I threw a rock and clocked him right in the back of the head," Jim said. "Didn't see where he landed. Was too busy trying to get back here."

Dean nodded and pointed out, "That gives us some time. We need to get these guys tied up and in your garage before any of them think about running to the law."

"Doubt they'd do that. Most of them are already on the Sheriff's bad side," Jim admitted.

"That'll help. Sam, go find the guy that got away," ordered Dean. "While Mr. Clark and I tie these ones up."

"Dean," Sam protested.

"Now Sam, we've only got a few hours till sun up," Dean insisted. Sam knew he didn't want to be caught up with the law. So Sam nodded and turned down the dirt road, scanning as best he could the darkened grass and scrub, looking for any signs of a body.

Sam knew this job was for him to regain control of himself. This wasn't the first time the apathetic side of his nature had surfaced since Castiel had broken the wall in his mind. In fact he'd used that unemotional side of his soulless self to help win at the poker tournament. He'd also felt it surface again a few times in the form of a thought or feeling that was out of character with his normal self.

Snorting in amusement, Sam thought, _Normal Self? I'm so screwed up I don't even know what normal is anymore_.

Aside from those times, he'd never let that side of him take control so completely. And it wasn't like he couldn't remember killing Randy. He did, but it also felt like he was outside himself watching as his arm raised and let loose the knife. Watched it sail from his hand straight to Randy's heart. In those moments his conscience had been subservient to the callousness within him.

Trying to shake off the unease he had with his inability to control his own mind, Sam concentrated harder in finding the missing attacker. He finally found him near the main road, sprawled in the dirt, face up. As if he'd rolled a couple of times after being hit with the rock. After checking the pulse which was slow but strong, Sam put him over his shoulder and started back to the house. He walked as fast as he could without dropping his burden. The man stank of body odor and stale beer. It was a relief when he finally dropped him in the garage and Dean swiftly tied first his hand and legs together then tied his legs to one of the others. Sam did a quick count and in the time he'd been gone, Jim and Dean had tied everyone up except for Randy.

The three of them went back to the front door where Randy still lay.

"Jim," Dean consoled, now on a first name basis with the black man. "Why don't you go check on your family. My brother and I can take care of this."

"What are you going to do?" queried Jim and sounding unsure.

"Do you really want to know?" was Dean's blunt reply.

"No. Just get him off my porch," and he stepped over the body and inside the house.

"Come on," Dean said bending down to grab the legs. "Let's take this out behind the garage."

"Are we burying it?" asked Sam, getting his hands under the shoulders and lifting with Dean.

"Not sure we'll have time before we have to split," conceded Dean. "For now I just want to get it out of site of the house"

They carried the body away and a little less then gentle, dropped the it behind the garage. Dean left and then came back a minute later with a tarp that he draped over the body and used a few rocks to hold it down so it wouldn't blow away.

Dean dusted his hand and said, "I figure we should just split now and save ourselves any further explanation."

Plainly Dean was ignoring Sam's earlier behavior for now. He wasn't sure if he should be grateful to his brother or not. It all depended on whether or not Dean decided to make an issue of it later. They had almost made it back to their discarded gear before Jim's voice called out, "I think you two owe me some kind of answers before you disappear."

"Don't know what you mean," Dean phrased smoothly. "We're just two guys who got stuck on the road when the power went out."

"You really expect me to buy that?" admonished Jim. "You two fought like well trained soldiers, not to mention there's the not so small fact of what you were doin' out in the middle of the night to be of help in the first place."

"What can I say," Dean easily replied and throwing his hands out. "We're just trying to get on the road as fast as possible and cover as much ground as we can."

"Why?" This was not said by Jim, but Cecily who was coming out of the house to stand next to her husband.

"How's your son?" Asked Sam trying to deflect Jim's question.

"He got a pretty good knock on the head, but I'll think he'll be alright," Cecily answered. "But that's beside the point. Jim asked what would cause two men to be traveling at night."

"Don't suppose it has anything to do with why my rifle failed ta fire? Not once but three times? And why armed men didn't fire the guns they were armed with?"

The brothers looked at each other than at the two Clarks. "I think we'd better take this inside," Sam said. "Cause I'm not sure you're going to believe this."


End file.
